Rebellion
by Ozlady
Summary: The Council controls everything, but can they control love?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: not mine, never going to be mine. I own nothing.

Buffy/Tara pairing. Various others.

Rating is that anyone probably 13 and up is safe

Prologue

The world was as it has always been, or as many were taught to believe it had been. The government was in complete and total control. The Council, as the government was known, controlled everything from industry to education. This was a good thing, for unemployment was nearly nonexistent and production levels were high. The Council made sure everyone had a job and everyone had what they needed. Crime was low and food was plentiful.

The world was as it had always been, since the Council took control. Many people lived in fear. The police were always watching, waiting to capture someone who dared to speak against the Council's power. The mass populations of its greatest cities were hungry, cold, and weary. The youth of the world were taught to love the Council and listen to its teachings. Its teachings about how the economy was better than it ever had been before the Council, how people were happy, and how traitors must be punished. Magical people were targeted and many would disappear in the middle of the night, never to be heard from again. People were arrested on suspicion, and thrown into prison or work camps. The secret police, or Slayers, were always listening, always around. Unknown and unrecognized agents of the government, they raided homes without so much as a hint of guilt. They tortured warlocks and forced witches into labor camps. The Slayers were feared by all, but mostly by the magical people. For the Slayers were the right hand of the Council, and the inferior and traitorous must be eradicated.


	2. Chapter 2

A light rain fell, clouds blocking out most of the sun's bright rays. People walked quickly across the streets and down sidewalks, trying desperately to stay dry. A woman, dressed in a worn black coat and gray dress, firmly gripped her young daughter's hand as they briskly moved down the cracked sidewalk. The little girl, fascinated with the falling water, looked skywards, her twinkling eyes watching the plummeting droplets. A smile crossed her face as one plopped on her nose, and she turned her head to tell her mother, when the firm grip on her delicate hand became painful. She watched as her mother's eyes began to fill with fear. Looking to where her mother was staring, she focused on a tall man with sandy blonde hair and piercing eyes. His dark green and black uniform was starched and his boots pounded on the pavement as he walked towards them. To his left was a dark skinned man, dressed the same, but with a threatening look in his cold eyes. The little girl, frightened, dropped her head, looking at her dirty black shoes. She felt as the two men stepped by her, felt their warning eyes on herself and her mother. She held her breath, not knowing what was going to happen.

Tara turned away from the window, Anya's calls drawing her away from the outside activities she had been observing. She stepped over to the counter of the shop, thinking about how the police had been scrutinizing the pair outside. She noted how the little girl had been scared. She must not have attended school yet.

She was brought out of her musings by a slightly frazzled shop owner popping out of the back storage room. "We have no eye of newt left. It was written on the inventory that we had two cases, but there's none back there. We cannot make a sale if there is no eye of newt, Tara." Tara calmly turned to the door, entering the small storage room. The space was no bigger than a closet, but it was stacked wall to wall with supplies of varying kinds. Slivers of kraken tentacle sat next to bottles of ale. She stepped cautiously around a box of mummy hands and slide in between two barrels of empty jars. Reaching out by memory, she grasped the small box hidden behind three boxes of cigarettes, and gently pulled it out. Holding the box firmly with two hands, she brought it out to the front desk, setting it down in front of Anya with a slight smile. The store keeper glanced at her before tearing into the box and pulling out a jar full of eyes. Without so much as a thank you, she moved over to the cash register, ringing up the sale. Tara shook her head, used to her friend's behavior, and went through the process of returning the box and bringing out a few bottles of ale to restock the shelves.

She had been working at The Box, for two years now. After a few tumultuous meetings, she and Anya had become friends, two outcasts in a city full of hatred. She had met Anya through a mutual acquaintance, Willow Rosenberg, an editor for the daily newspaper and a witch.

Anya, Tara, and Willow all had magical backgrounds, causing them to hide a part of themselves. Anya owned The Box. A store that, upon first glance looked like a regular general store, but with the right connections was a place to procure magical supplies. So far, the police hadn't figured them out, and Anya and Tara hoped to keep it that way.


End file.
